


Underneath the Old Apple Tree

by undieshogun



Series: The Evie Frye Anthology [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undieshogun/pseuds/undieshogun
Summary: Evie was many different things before she was an Assassin--a child, an apprentice, a sister. A story about Evie, growing up, and Evie growing up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ive been sitting on this for pretty much a year, but i just love evie to pieces and i couldn't let this go unpublished for any longer. please enjoy

Cecily Frye gives birth one chilly autumn afternoon in Crawley, in a house near the river. The pain is unbearable--complications that can’t quite be pinpointed, says the midwife, and the doctor doesn’t seem to know what to do either. Cecily screams until her voice goes hoarse and grasps her husband’s hand hard enough so that he loses all feeling in his fingers. But for all their grief and anxiety, the baby girl comes out healthy--kicking and screaming and drenched in blood, but just fine nonetheless.

“Evie,” croaks Cecily, smiling weakly. Her green eyes glimmer like she’s seen heaven.

It takes them all a moment to realize it is the baby’s name.

The midwife wraps Evie in a thick wool blanket and leans down to transfer her to Cecily’s arms, but the new mother only shakes her head.

Before anyone can ask, she goes deathly still...before throwing her head back and unleashing another piercing, ungodly wail.

“My goodness!” cries the midwife as, with one final push from Cecily, a second baby makes its way into the world of the living.

“Two…” breathes Ethan Frye, heart swelling. “Twins! Cecily—”

But there is no response from Cecily. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is shallow. For a few days, she hangs on to life, but does not wake. The twins, the younger still nameless, are fed by a wet nurse and cared for by Cecily’s mother.

Cecily Frye dies without ever having held her children.

A part of Ethan dies with her.

 _Evie if it’s a girl, because I know she’ll grow up to be beautiful and vibrant as an evening sky filled with stars,_ Cecily had decided long ago. _Jacob, after my brave, kind father, if it’s a boy._  

And so Ethan considers it the last promise he will have fulfilled to Cecily when he names the boy Jacob before leaving the both of them behind to travel to India--not because he blames them for his wife’s death, but because he needs the time to mourn and recover from the loss.

-:-

At least, that’s what Grandmother is always telling them. And though their father has been home for five years now and treats them well, Evie knows that isn’t true—not entirely.

Evie loves her father. He has taught her and Jacob much and has never once treated them cruelly. He even shares his most valuable secrets with them, the greatest of which is the existence of the Assassin Brotherhood. And he promises them, dark eyes sharp with pride and something else they don’t recognize yet, that they are destined to walk the same path as he does.

Yet Evie knows it is not grief but bitterness that makes him reluctant to talk about Cecily when they ask, that sits deep in his features when he insists that he visit her grave alone when they offer to accompany him. And she understands. They didn’t do it on purpose, but they were the cause nonetheless, and sometimes Evie fears that their father may never forgive them.

And so, as much as she loves her father and values his teachings and affection, it is her brother Jacob whom she considers her closest companion. Jacob, who has been at her side since the beginning, during all the moments Grandmother was there and during the ones where she wasn’t, who not only understands Evie’s struggles but struggles along with her.

Evie and Jacob. It’s a phrase she has been hearing for as long as she can remember, for it seems there isn’t much to say about one that doesn’t involve the other.

She would not have it any other way.

-:-

The other children in town know about their mother. Gossip travels fast and runs rampant in their little borough. Whether it comes to grades, wit, or just plain brute force, Evie can hold her own against her classmates, but Jacob makes himself an easy target for bullies when he skips classes to play by the riverbank alone.

One warm spring afternoon on her way back from school, Evie finds him there, hunched over right next to the water and examining a small blue pebble.

“You’re going to fall behind in lessons, Jacob,” she says as she puts her bookbag down carefully on a tuft of grass and sits down next to him on the rocky bank. There’s nothing particularly rigorous about fifth grade arithmetic, but to Evie what matters is the principle of things--showing up to school and doing one’s part as a student fosters a sense of responsibility in one’s lifestyle.

Well, that’s what Father tells them anyway, and he _is_ the schoolmaster, after all.

“Oh, how tragic, missing out on all those opportunities to have the other children spit on us,” mutters Jacob, rolling his eyes. However, he ducks his head when he sees the hard expression on Evie’s face, like he’s bracing himself for what comes next.

“They don’t _spit_ on us, and those school lessons are to lay an important foundation for—”

“For our future as well-rounded Master Assassins, yes, yes,” grumbles Jacob. “Except that we haven’t actually learned anything about being assassins except for some stupid motto that doesn’t even make sense.” He drops the little blue pebble into the river and watches as it rolls slowly away in the gentle flow.

“Where did that pebble come from?” asks Evie, half curious and half wanting to change the subject. They’ve been through this enough times now that she knows arguing with Jacob about school gets them nowhere.

“Snatched it off one of the Atkinson brats during the tussle. I don’t think he noticed.” Jacob shrugs. “It’s gone now.”

“Tussle—Jacob! Let me see.” Evie tries to lift Jacob’s head, but he pulls away and shrugs her off.

“It’s nothing,” says Jacob, but Evie wrestles him to the ground and shoves his hands away from his face.

A livid bruise the size of a small apple sits right below his left cheekbone. He flinches when Evie touches it, and Evie feels her blood boil.  

“What did they do, kick you?”

“It’s nothing!” Jacob insists. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

“You don’t always have to fight back, Jacob. Sometimes knowing when to back down is important, too.” But those are Father’s words, not Evie’s. If it were Evie facing those boys, she would have sent them running for the hills. But it is Jacob who took their blows, and no amount of pride is worth having to see that big, ugly bruise on her brother’s face.

“They were talking about you, Evie! Calling you a freak and all kinds of stuff just because you’re better than them,” says Jacob, expression twisting with indignation. “It’s one thing when people talk about Mother and Father abandoning us, but you...you don’t deserve that. I couldn’t just walk away.”

Evie’s chest aches with sympathy. She wouldn’t have walked away, either, if she heard them talking about Jacob like that.

She sighs and stands up, retrieving her bookbag before returning to the bank. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

“I don’t feel like going home. Grandmother’ll have my hide when she sees me.”

“Never said we were going home. Come on.” Evie holds her hand out and Jacob lets her help him up.

She takes him across the river, where the trees are thicker and the grass grows tall and vibrant. There’s not much of the borough (and beyond) that they haven’t seen, but Evie’s favorite thing about the hill at the other side of the river is that it grows back different every spring. The flowers in the meadow are never the same as the ones from the previous year, and the fruit growing on the trees seem to grow larger and more colorful every new season.

At the top of the hill is a spot just under the shade of a large, old apple tree, where the entire borough is visible below. Evie can see everything that’s going on, from who’s on their way to the market to who’s splitting logs in their own backyard. It gives her a rush that takes her breath away, but it’s about more than just the view. It’s the way it makes her feel larger than herself in that moment, like this secret gift from the world is a sign that she is destined for something great.

She knows that Jacob feels it too. She can see it in the way his eyes widen with intense focus and awareness every time he looks down at Crawley—into it and through it—and she hopes it reminds him on days like these that for all he may lack, he still has something that no one else does (except for her, of course).

But today Jacob is exceptionally distraught. His gaze is flat and uninterested, and he pulls his legs up against his chest and rests his chin on his knees like Evie knows he does when he doesn’t feel like talking.

Evie is prepared for this, though. From her bookbag she pulls out a few rolls of french bread, still slightly warm, and a jar of jam. “I stopped by the bakery on the way home today. Care to have some with me?”

Jacob glances her way and nods. Evie splits the rolls and slathers the jam over the soft insides so that it will be warm, just like she knows Jacob likes it. She hands him the first roll, which he takes with a quiet “Thank you.”

They eat together in silence for a few minutes. Evie watches the people in Crawley go about their business, smiling when she sees someone she recognizes, or frowning when she witnesses something unpleasant. For all that Crawley is a relatively small and quiet borough, it only takes a careful examination of the finer workings of the town to see that not everyone is happy. Minor crimes like thievery run rampant—Evie has even witnessed one of her classmates, a poor girl from a family of farmers, pickpocketing strangers in the market.

 _It’s good practice,_ Evie hears her father say to his apprentice and fellow Assassin George sometimes, _stalking and catching petty criminals, putting them in their place._ But she can tell it’s more than that. She has seen what her father does with the thieves he catches—they end up working in factories, or becoming farm hands. Some of the younger ones even find jobs as potboys. He gives them a chance to work for what they were trying to steal and there’s no way he can help them all, but he’s making a difference, and it is one of the things Evie respects most about him.

“Grandmother was telling me about Mother and Father the other day,” Evie begins as she and Jacob continue to eat and take in the view. In an alley between the butcher’s and the fish market, a teenager hassles a well dressed middle-aged man until the latter hands over what appears to be a golden ring. It’s a shame, but there’s nothing Evie can do. _Never pick fights you cannot win_ , her father is always reminding her. One day she will be able to play her part, but for now she does her best to have patience and be the best student she can be.

“Grandmother is always talking about Mother and Father,” Jacob is saying.

“She was telling me about London. Mother and Father were the most well-known assassins in their time,” Evie continues nonetheless. “They even came close to defeating London’s Grand Master Templar, once.”  

“Too bad they couldn’t finish the job.” Jacob is scowling now, but the effect of it is lost when Evie spots a bit of jam smeared across his chin.

Evie rolls her eyes and wipes it off for him with a napkin, flicking him in the forehead when he protests. “Mother must have been an amazing assassin. Can you imagine how brave and strong you would have to be to take on someone so powerful?”

“Apparently not strong enough to survive having us,” mutters Jacob, voice thick with bitterness and more than a touch of sadness.

“Jacob!” Evie wants to hit him in the arm for that, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. She’s had the same thoughts. “You don’t have to believe everything the other people say. They don’t know what kind of person Mother was.”

“And we do?”

“Don’t we? The way Father and Grandmother loved her, the way the Templars feared her and the Assassins respected her, doesn’t that already say more than enough about who she was?”

Jacob blinks several times, eyes wet. “She’s gone. It shouldn’t matter what anyone says...And the stuff they’re always saying about you and Father isn’t true either, but I still get so _angry_ when they…”

“Oh, Jacob…” Evie pulls out a handkerchief, clean and white. It has her mother’s initials on it, and it is one of her most prized possessions. She wipes Jacob’s tears away, dabbing gently around his bruise, and this time he doesn’t protest. “It’s not wrong for us to care. We’re more than just her children. We’re her legacy.”

“Well, from the looks of it, we have some big shoes to fill.”

“But we could do it!” Evie takes Jacob’s hands in hers and shakes them to make sure he’s listening to her, a big grin spreading across her face. “Can you imagine how proud Mother and Father would be--how proud _everyone_ would be if we managed to do what even they couldn’t?”

“What, you mean—London?” Jacob grimaces. “Defeating a Grand Master of the Templar order?”

“I hear Father talking to Mr. Westhouse all the time about how the Templars grow ever more powerful in London, but we could change that! We can do anything together, as long as we’re there for each other.”

Jacob seems to cheer up. His eyes brighten a little, but his smile is wry. “You could probably do it all on your own. You’re going to be a much better assassin than I am, I can tell.”

“Well, probably,” agrees Evie lightheartedly. “But it would be far more fun with you there.”

Jacob’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with genuine joy for a second before he winces and puts a hand up to his face.

“Oh—we should definitely put something cold on that when we get back,” says Evie.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Grandmother’s going to have a _fit_ when she sees—”

“No, I mean...thank you for…” Jacob shrugs and ducks his head. “For being a good sister, I guess. Taking care of me all the time and stuff.”

For a moment, Evie is speechless, mouth hanging open. Jacob has never said anything like this before, and she’s not sure she actually heard that right. But the sincerity in his voice is unmistakeable, and when he looks back up at her, his expression is pinched with anxiety, as if he’s sure Evie is going to tease him.

Evie takes Jacob by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “I wouldn’t do it if you weren’t such a good brother. I’ll always be there for you, Jacob.”  

Jacob buries his face into Evie’s shoulder and hugs her back tightly. “I’ll be there for you, too. Well, I’ll try—you were always better at keeping promises.”

-:-

Evie and Jacob are the first ones up on the morning of their twelfth birthday. The sun has yet to rise, though a pale red light is already bleeding onto the dark horizon. The air is cold and bites at their skin through their thin night clothes, but they’re too excited to let it bother them.

Quietly, they tiptoe around each other to get dressed. Jacob dons Evie’s jacket and scarf, and Evie pulls on Jacob’s trousers and tucks her hair into one of his hats. They turn to each other after they’re done, examining one another’s handiwork.

It’s exactly like looking into the mirror. They have the same large green eyes, the same small nose, even the same gently rounded jawline. Jacob’s freckles, sprinkled across the bridge of his nose just like Evie’s, are only a touch lighter than hers, but nobody notices. There’s not much to be done about that smug little twist he’s always got in his lip, but that will only make today all the more fun.

Satisfied, Evie bows. “Miss Frye.”

Pursing his lips to hold in a laugh, Jacob does his best impression of a curtsey. “Mister Frye.”  

They break into silent laughter.

“Bet you no one figures us out until at _least_ after supper,” says Jacob.

“Grandmother would probably be able to tell by the time afternoon tea comes around,” says Evie.

“Grandmother can’t tell us apart even when we’re wearing our own clothes,” scoffs Jacob. “I’d bet my watch on it.”

Evie glances over to the desk they share, where a bronze pocket watch rests among a collection of other trinkets Evie has watched Jacob pick up over the years. The watch has been broken ever since Jacob found it forgotten (more likely abandoned) on a park bench several months ago, but he took an instant liking to it and spends much of his time trying to get it fixed, with little luck. They have a small allowance (“Assassins do not waste their money on materialistic pursuits,” their father is always telling them) and Jacob has terrible impulse control.

“I’ll take you up on that,” says Evie, getting an idea.

“...What?”

“And I’ll wager this.” Evie holds up a long golden chain.

She doesn’t miss the way Jacob’s eyes gleam with more than just curiosity. “Where did you even get that?”

“Mrs. Walker down at the bakery gave it to me for always visiting and buying. Her husband was going to throw it out anyway, so she figured I could have it.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Well, you could get nice things too if you spent your time on more productive activities than picking fights and skipping lessons,” huffs Evie, sticking her chin out and offering her hand. “Are we doing this or not?”

Jacob narrows his eyes like he wants to argue, but shakes on it with Evie anyway.

By the time they arrive downstairs to get started on their day, Father is already up and laying a breakfast of ham, eggs, and baked potato out on the family’s little round table for four.

“Eat up,” he says when he sees them, and makes no comment on their appearances as they take their seats next to each other. So far, so good. “Today’s a big day, you know. You’ll be starting your first day as official Assassin apprentices this afternoon when you come home from school.”

Evie feels excitement swell in her chest, but remembers at the last moment that she is supposed to be Jacob, and just barely manages to contain her grin.

“Oh, Father! I can’t wait!” exclaims Jacob, pitching his voice up just enough that he manages to sound utterly stupid.

 _That is_ not _what I sound like,_ Evie wants to snap, but again Father doesn’t seem to notice any discrepancies.

The three of them eat breakfast in relative silence, which isn’t unusual. Father isn’t a big talker, and Grandmother usually doesn’t wake until after they’ve gone to school. After they finish eating, Evie silently reminds Jacob to thank Father, and they gather their book bags.

“Make sure you come back on time,” Father reminds them one last time at the door. “Oh, and—happy birthday, of course...Your mother would be proud of how you’ve grown.”

Evie can’t help the big smile that tugs at her lips this time when she sees the soft, earnest expression on his face. “Thank you, Father.”

-:-

They have no intentions of going to school today, of course. As important as Evie knows it is for them to get their education, she also knows her priorities. This day comes only once a year, and she has every intention of making the most of it with her brother.

They spend the morning doing as they please for the most part, causing no small amount of mischief (mostly just for George, their favorite target). Evie knows that they are quickly reaching the age where playing silly pranks on their friends and family will be beyond them. It makes today all the more important, and she and Jacob revel in their freedom.

They spend lunchtime in town, tricking people with their little disguise and making fools of themselves to make fools of each other. At one point Jacob flirts with the blacksmith’s son, whom he knows Evie has been shy around the past few weeks, batting his eyelashes stupidly and cooing in an ugly falsetto that has Evie grinding her teeth.

Evie retaliates by coming onto the flower seller and his sister—at the same time. Everyone in town knows that Jacob is a notorious flirt (at least, as much as one can be at 12 years old), but Evie is fairly certain that even he wouldn’t have the audacity to do this. Incredibly, it backfires. Both the flower seller and his sister respond to the advances and before she knows it, Evie has landed Jacob a tea date with them next week. Evie isn’t quite sure what to do about that, but at least the mortified look on Jacob’s face tells her she’s gotten her revenge.

Red-faced and dreading their next visit to town as themselves, Evie and Jacob duck into the bakery for lunch.

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday twins!” Mrs. Walker greets them as they walk in. “Hold on just a second. I’ve got a little something for you.” She leans down to retrieve something from under the counter, before coming back up holding a beautiful cake decorated with an array of lovely patterns and colors.

Evie gasps softly and Jacob gapes for a few seconds, jaw hanging like it’s been unhinged, as they watch Mrs. Walker place the cake down on the counter. When she looks expectantly at them, Evie very subtly digs her elbow into Jacob’s gut.

“Uh—” Jacob clears his throat. “That’s a lovely cake, Mrs. Walker! It must have taken you a long time to make.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Walker,” says Evie.

“Oh, it’s not a problem at all. It’s been such a delight having you darlings visit so often these past several years, especially since it was starting to get lonely without—” Mrs. Walker pauses, and Evie sees a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she smiles gently at Jacob. “Well, let’s just say that you have your mother’s kind heart, Evie.”

“What about me?” pipes up Evie, like she so knows Jacob would, but also because she knows that Mrs. Walker loves Jacob too, for all that she treats him like a pest sometimes.

“Oh, Jacob.” Mrs. Walker laughs and flicks Evie on the forehead. “You have your mother’s love for mischief and _wonderful_ wit. Happy birthday to you both.”

Elated at Mrs. Walker’s present and warmed by her words, Evie and Jacob leap forward to wrap her in a tight group hug that makes Mrs. Walker laugh with delight.

“You silly things, where did you learn to be so sweet?” says Mrs. Walker as they pull away. She sits them down at one of the dining tables. “Now, you’re here for lunch, yes? How about some beef stew to warm you up? I see you’ve been running around town all morning in the cold.”

“That would be lovely,” says Jacob, reaching into the hidden pocket in Evie’s jacket where he knows she keeps her coin purse. Evie wants to protest, but reminds herself that that would be a stupid way to reveal the disguise.

“Oh, don’t worry about paying today! It’s on me,” Mrs. Walker insists before bustling towards the kitchen. “Sit tight, and I’ll have your lunch out in a jiffy.”

When Jacob doesn’t respond, Evie kicks him lightly in the shin.

“Ow—! I-I mean, that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Walker.”

When Mrs. Walker disappears behind the door to the kitchen, Jacob leans forward to hiss at Evie. “Why do you always have to be so polite?”

“Because unlike you, I actually have _manners_ ,” Evie hisses back.

Jacob huffs and leans back in his chair, expression transforming into one of thoughtfulness. “I didn’t know Mrs. Walker was close with Mother.”

“It’s not hard to imagine, though,” says Evie. She grins at Jacob. “And it does explain why she likes me better and gave me the gold chain.”

Jacob scowls. “Gloat while you can. That chain is going to be mine by the end of the day.”

“We’ll see about that, then, won’t we?”

-:-

Father raises his eyebrows when he sees the cake. “Mrs. Walker bake that one for you, did she?” He doesn’t say anything about the fact that they skipped classes, though Evie is certain that he knows.

“We could eat it together at afternoon tea,” says Jacob, unable to contain his excitement.

“You thanked Mrs. Walker properly, I hope.” Father steps aside to let them in. “Take that to the kitchen and see if Grandmother can cut it for us.”

Grandmother is in the middle of making tea, but luckily hasn’t started on the sandwiches yet. She is delighted to see the cake, and insists that George join them for tea.

Evie and Jacob exchange wide-eyed glances. They had something of an encounter with George this morning during their pranking spree. Well—to say that would be somewhat understating exactly what happened, but they have nothing to admit to the table.

“He’s sti—he’s here? How, erm...is he?” asks Jacob, and Evie refrains from rolling her eyes at his total lack of subtlety.

Father frowns, but if he suspects anything he doesn’t question them. “He’s going over some mission plans in the study. I’ll go get him.”

“Evie, darling, would you mind taking over the tea while I cut the cake?” says Grandmother, and Jacob flashes Evie a smirk before heading over to the counter.

“Here I am, Grandmother,” says Jacob.

Without looking away from the cake, Grandmother shakes her head. “No, no. I need your sister.”

The smirk drops like a rock from Jacob’s face. “Right.”

As Evie squeezes past Jacob to get to the counter, she grins and mutters, “I’ll have that watch then, whenever you’re ready.”

Jacob’s scowl is so deep he looks like he might be holding back tears. “Over my dead body.”

Evie pours hot water over a spoonful of tea leaves. “That can be arranged.”

“Here we are!” Grandmother loads the freshly sliced cake onto the nice china plates she likes to save for special occasions. “Isn’t that lovely?”

The chocolate pieces pressed into the icing on top of the cake look nice against the golden gilding of the porcelain, and Evie can’t help but feel rather excited to have it. She can’t actually remember the last time she and Jacob properly celebrated their birthday. Even after his return, Father remained distant. He didn’t start truly involving himself in their lives until last year, when he made the decision to train them to be Assassins. Evie and Jacob used to spend their birthdays staying out of his way, for he would visit Mother’s grave, staying there for hours and coming home only when the sky turned dark. They never dared ask him to celebrate with them.

Evie allows herself a small, secret smile when she hears Father’s footsteps, accompanied by George’s, coming down the stairs from the study.

The tea is set, and the cake is distributed. Evie and Jacob exchange glances as a ruffled-looking George sits down, but all he does is send a brief icy glare their way before sighing and raising his cup to his lips without saying anything.

“Evie, Jacob,” begins Father after they’ve all been seated. “Happy Birthday. I’m proud of how far you’ve come, and starting from today I look forward to seeing you grow as Assassins.”

“Thank you, Father,” says Jacob, this time without being prompted.

Father smiles and raises his fork. “Let’s dig in, shall we?”

-:-

Their first training session as true Assassin apprentices doesn’t go quite like they expect it to.

Father spends the majority of the afternoon lecturing them. He teaches them about the true meaning behind the Creed, most of which Evie can tell is completely lost on Jacob, judging by the blank look on his face. Father reminds them of the purpose of the Assassins, their ongoing fight for freedom and peace in all things, and why that makes the Templars their enemies. He shows them the weapons they will be using—the hidden blade, throwing knives, smoke bombs—but doesn’t allow Evie or Jacob to touch any of them.

He talks about the race to recover the Pieces of Eden, powerful tools with astounding abilities that cannot be allowed to fall into Templar hands. Evie has read about the Pieces of Eden in Father’s books and journals. The things they’ve been said to do, from mind control to creating body doubles, are like nothing she has ever heard of. It fascinates her. But there is something else, something perhaps slightly more urgent, that has been preoccupying her for a while now.

Realizing that Father still has yet to notice they’ve switched clothes, Evie takes the opportunity to ask questions she would normally refrain from asking. “When will we start training for assassination?”

“Soon, Jacob. I know you are both eager, but being an Assassin is about more than just fighting and killing. We do not kill because we want to; we do it because we must, because there is no other way. Our assassinations carry a purpose and an effect that is larger than both us and our targets.”

As the sky grows dark, Father’s lecture shifts focus to history. He teaches them about Assassins in the past whose example they ought to follow, how the assassination of certain figures had changed the world for the better.

Evie soaks it all in like a sponge; Jacob nods off more than once.

Father sends them off to bed with the promise that they will begin their combat training soon, though he doesn’t specify exactly when “soon” is supposed to be.

“I can’t believe he didn’t notice at all,” says Jacob as the two of them begin dressing for bed, returning their clothes to each other.

“It seems Grandmother is the only person today who did,” agrees Evie.

“She is the only one who raised us, after all.”

Evie hesitates. “Isn’t that a bit harsh? I mean, he did come back, and he has been trying harder.”

“You know he’s never going to love us like he would if Mother were here.”

It’s dark—they didn’t bother lighting the candles—and Evie can’t see Jacob’s expression, but she doesn’t need to. She feels the bitterness too, the deep, persistent ache that sits at the bottom of her chest, only she’s always been better at hiding it than Jacob has.

“He’ll learn to love us,” Evie says into the darkness, and wonders which one of them she’s trying harder to convince.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second half! thanks for reading everyone, enjoy!

The watch will end up taking nearly three years to fix. 

Evie has the gears and face repaired within weeks after she wins the watch from Jacob, but when she tries to attach the gold chain, she finds that the bronze is simply too worn and off-color to look even remotely good with the chain. 

The watchmaker promises her that he will keep a gold casing on hand for her whenever she’s ready, but the price is still a bit much for her to swallow. Nevertheless, she accepts Mr. Griffiths’s offer and resolves to spend her money sparingly over the next...however long it takes. 

She comes to find it won’t be so difficult. Her responsibilities as a student aside, training with Father progresses at an exponential rate. Less than a week after their first lesson, Father begins putting them through unbelievably intense conditioning exercises that leave them hobbling up the stairs to bed and struggling to sit up in the mornings. Training begins first thing after school, and early on Jacob learns the hard way that being late does, in fact, have its consequences when Father has him mucking the neighbor’s stables while Evie gets to learn sneaking drills. 

Between being perpetually exhausted and having a Mentor who always has his eyes on his watch, Evie and Jacob have virtually no time to themselves over the next couple of years. 

After a while, Jacob tolerance wears thin. The combat training is nothing he can’t handle (if anything, Evie is a little jealous that Jacob is growing to be a better fighter than she is), but every time Father mentions the Pieces of Eden, Evie can see Jacob shut down. His eyes go blank with disinterest and he grows restless, fidgeting with his gear and clothes and nudging at Evie to make sarcastic comments. Father seems to grow more and more invested in teaching them about their responsibility for find and protect the Pieces of Eden, and by the spring of their fourteenth year Jacob has started skipping out on entire training sessions. 

Evie, on the other hand, loves it. She loves learning new techniques, learning their history and their usages, and learning that she’s  _ good _ at being an Assassin. She gives her all at every training session and spends many nights in the study with Father, trying to help him locate the Pieces of Eden. She chastises Jacob for not putting enough effort into training, and often finds herself frustrated beyond reason when Jacob blows her off. 

“You’re falling behind, Jacob,” she says on the eve of their fifteenth birthday as they prepare to turn in for the night. Her muscles are sore and she dresses herself carefully, holding back a grimace as dull pain pulses in her abdomen and legs. Every time she starts getting used to the conditioning exercises, Father pushes her harder. She can’t remember the last time she wasn’t sore in at least two areas of her body. 

“Falling behind in what?” says Jacob from atop his bed, where he’s been for the past two hours, reading a leather-bound book with no visible title printed on the cover. Something inappropriate, no doubt. “The hunt for the Magic Rocks of Eden?” 

Evie scowls. “You’ve been skipping out on drills as well. I’m starting to get the feeling you’re doing this just to spite Father.” 

“What—me, spite Father?” Jacob tosses his book down and puts a hand to his chest, eyebrows rising in exaggerated offense. “Me, spite the man who promised he would make us into Assassins and instead has been delivering nothing but history lectures and myths about shiny stones? Why, Evie Frye! You  _ insult _ me.” 

Evie sighs. She’s heard this all before. “Jacob, I know it’s difficult for you, but you have to be patient.” 

“This is me being patient! Here I am, biding my time until Father decides to finally stop wasting everyone else’s and actually teach us something for once.” 

“You know, if you had been to at least the past few lessons, you would know that tomorrow—” Evie cuts herself off, hesitating. 

Jacob stares at her. “What?” 

Evie bites her lip. 

“What? Tell me!” 

“I’m...getting a hidden blade tomorrow. And Father is going to assign my first target.” 

Jacob’s eyes widen almost comically, mouth falling open. “You...you? You’re going on a mission?” 

“Father thought I was ready, and...you’re not jealous, are you?” 

The betrayal in Jacob’s pinched expression is quite genuine. “Evie, ‘jealous’ is when you have more soup in your bowl than I do. This is  _ incredible! _ I always knew you’d be the first to make everyone proud.” 

Jacob leaps from his bed and engulfs Evie in a bone-crushing hug, eliciting a grunt of surprise from her. “I’m so excited for you,” Jacob says. 

Evie isn’t sure when Jacob got quite so strong, or when his shoulders came to be broader than hers, but at that moment one thing she does know for certain is that she will never feel as safe, as powerful, as she does with her brother by her side. 

“Come along with me,” says Evie when Jacob lets her go and she can breathe again. “On the mission. I’m going to need you there.” 

Jacob rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. Father—” 

“Father will understand. He knows you’re ready to be an Assassin, Jacob,” says Evie. She opens her drawer at the desk they still share and pulls out two pieces of parchment. “This is the mission briefing, and this is the map to the location we’ll be observing the target area from. If you’re not going to join us for morning training tomorrow, just be at the rendezvous point, and I’ll see if I can’t convince Father to let you partake in the mission.” 

Jacob takes the pieces and glances over them before nodding. “All right, I’ll be there.” 

Evie smiles in relief. “Thank you. I know we’ll both make Father proud tomorrow.” 

-:-

Jacob is late. 

Father has already agreed to let Jacob join Evie on the mission, but his sour expression is telling her that he’s losing his patience. 

“He—um, he’ll be here soon, I’m sure,” says Evie, unable to meet Father’s sharp gaze. She fidgets with the gauntlet he has just fitted her with. She already knows how to deploy the hidden blade; she and Jacob have been practicing the past several months, learning how to both assassinate and fight in direct combat with the hidden blade as well as an assortment of other weapons.

She can feel Father’s eyes on her as she checks the deployment gear on the gauntlet. Though she can tell it’s been well-used, it remains in impeccable condition.  _ Whether or not your gear is functional can mean the difference between life and death on the field, _ she can hear Father’s voice saying in her head even as the one sitting in front of her remains silent.  _ The success of your missions relies just as much on your gear as it does your skills. _

“Today will be the first time you take the life of another human being,” says Father, and it takes a moment for Evie to realize that he is speaking aloud. 

“I won’t fail you, Father,” she says almost reflexively. When she looks up to meet his eyes, she’s surprised to see how soft his expression is. 

There is no sternness in his normally steely gaze, and when he speaks, his voice is so gentle she has to strain to hear him. “Today, Evie, what I want from you is to come home alive. While it is true that we do not fear death, that we respect it, it is also crucial that we understand which missions are worth risking and losing our lives for, and which ones aren’t.” 

Evie blinks, speechless. She knows where these words are coming from. She’s seen that expression on his face on those days when he visits Mother’s grave. 

“I—I understand. I’ll be careful,” she promises. “Jacob will have my back.” 

Father nods. “You and your brother compensate for each other’s weaknesses. You’ll make a good team...assuming he learns to start arriving on time at some point.” 

Evie grimaces, but before she can reply in Jacob’s defense (not that she really has anything prepared), the lock on the shed’s door clicks softly. 

Both Evie and Father’s heads swivel to watch the entrance, tense. 

The doorknob rattles, and the door swings open to reveal Jacob, kneeling in the doorway with a set of lockpicks in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m here,” he announces weakly. 

“You’re  _ late _ ,” snaps Evie, but Father is already leading him inside and locking the door again behind him. 

“Your target is Robert Davies, the owner of the mill,” Father says by way of introduction. As he speaks, he hands Jacob an array of throwing knives, smoke bombs, and even a set of what appears to be brass knuckles, but no hidden blade gauntlet. “He abuses his workers and refuses to pay them adequate wages, despite many peaceful attempts made by the Assassin Council to persuade him to change his ways. Thus, the Council has no choice but to mark him for assassination.” 

He hands them a piece of parchment with what appears to be a detailed map of the inside of the mill on it, and then flips it over to reveal a portrait. 

“Remember this map and the face of your target well, then burn the parchment. No loose ends,” instructs Father. 

Evie and Jacob take a moment to study the materials they’ve been given. The owner of the mill is a middle-aged man with dark hair and a clean-shaven face. The corners of his eyes are pinched, as if he is always squinting, and there is a mean look about him that Evie can’t quite explain. 

Father lights a match and drops it onto the parchment. “You know your mission, and you have your tools.” He looks at them—first at Evie, then Jacob—and nods. “Go.”  

-:-

The mill consists of three floors. The main office is located on the third floor, which is where Evie will most likely find her target. Davies has been known to respond aggressively to even the slightest provocation, so Evie will have to approach him undetected. The plan is for Jacob to enter from the first floor, through the main entrance, to disable the mill’s alarm bells in case she gets spotted by someone else. They want to make as little noise as possible, and that also means not tipping off any of the various supervisors stationed on each floor. 

_ Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. _

The supervisors work directly under Davies, but Father believes they can be convinced to cooperate after the owner has been taken care of. The only blood to be spilled today will be that of Robert Davies. 

“Remember, try not to hurt anyone,” says Evie as she and Jacob prepare to separate. “And  _ don’t _ be seen.” 

“Obviously,” says Jacob. “Relax! You just think about the mission, and I’ll take care of the rest.” 

Evie breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly, bringing her focus in. “Right. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” 

“You can have my dessert tonight if you make it twenty,” says Jacob with a crooked grin, and Evie grins back. 

“You’re on.” 

Jacob stops her with a hand on her wrist as she turns to leave. 

“What?” 

He squeezes her wrist gently. “Don’t die.” 

Evie grasps Jacob’s wrist and squeezes it back. Wordlessly, they turn around and, tugging their hoods over their heads, head out to begin their mission.

Evie begins by scaling the eastern wall. The building, constructed of wood, isn’t insurmountably tall, but her core and legs are still aching from the previous day’s conditioning exercises. She powers through it, pushing herself like she knows she can and ignoring the burn until she reaches the top. After rewarding herself with half a minute on top of the roof to catch her breath, she brings her focus in once again. 

There is a removable panel on the roof that she uses to drop in on the third floor, but the office sits on the west side. She’ll have to cross a gangway along the north wall to reach it. 

A quick scan of the floor gives her what she needs to plan out her next course of action. There are four supervisors on the floor, one for each side of the building, but their primary duty is to watch over the workers, and the mill owner’s office is fairly vulnerable. 

The problem is that the patrol path of every supervisor intersects with the ones adjacent to it at the corners where the gangways and floor meet, limiting the supervisors’ blind spots and the number of openings Evie can use to sneak past them without being spotted.

Evie bides her time, studying the timing of the patrol paths closely from her spot behind a stack of wooden crates. At one point, a young worker spots her, but all it takes to silence him is a dark look and a finger to her lips. She watches the supervisors go their whole route twice, but her path becomes clear to her when she spots an open window on the northern wall of the mill owner’s office. 

She makes her move as soon as the opportunity presents itself. 

The young mill worker is still loitering around, sending her less-than-subtle glances. She beckons him over and gestures at him to hide with her behind the crates. 

“Are you here to get us out of this lousy mill, Miss? You must know about the owner—he abuses us horribly,” the worker whispers.  

“I’m here to help, yes, but I’m going to need a favor from you first.” 

“You name it. Anything to get us out of here.” 

“All right, listen closely: I want you and some of your fellow workers to cause a distraction for me. There’s no need to start anything with the supervisors, but just direct their attention towards you for a while so that I can get to that office without anyone seeing me,” says Evie. “Can you do that?” 

“Sure thing! Just give me a minute.” The mill worker dashes off. 

Evie only has to wait a short moment before the commotion begins. The workers on the east wall burst into song, belting what sounds like a folk ballad, though it doesn’t sound familiar to Evie. 

The response is satisfyingly fast. 

“Oh, not again,” grumbles the supervisor on the east wall. He makes his way over to the workers, walking right past Evie’s hiding place. The supervisor on the north gangway cranes his neck to see what’s going on, but decides it isn’t worth his energy and continues his own route. 

But what comes next is what Evie has been waiting for. The owner of the mill sticks his head out of the open window and scowls. 

“What’s all this about?” He gestures impatiently at the supervisor on the north gangway. “Quiet those little wretches down, will you?” 

The supervisor frowns, but doesn’t argue. Evie watches, gaze sharp and muscles tense as he passes by her hiding spot. The mill owner retreats back into his office, and the west and south wall supervisors continue on their paths. 

Evie makes her move. She slinks across the north gangway, staying low and moving fast. Pausing at the window, she peeks in—the mill owner is turned away from her, reviewing some collection of documents on a desk across the room. Now is her chance. 

She stands, grips the top ledge of the window, and slides soundlessly into the office. 

Evie’s heart pounds in her chest. Her blood races through her veins—she hears waterfalls in her ears, and she can feel her pulse in her fingertips. She takes slow, deliberate steps and hopes to god she isn’t breathing too loudly. 

_ Stay in control.  _

She positions herself behind the mill owner, raises her left arm, and deploys the hidden blade. 

No room for hesitation. She plunges the blade into the back of the mill owner’s neck.

There is no resistance. The blade sinks like a hot knife in butter, and the mill owner lets out a weak, wet gurgle before his knees buckle.

Evie catches him as he goes limp and lays him gently on the ground. His eyes, wide and glassy, rove blindly. Blood spills from his mouth and Evie’s stomach churns, but she knows it is blood spilled for a just cause and swallows down the bile that rises to her throat. 

“Rest assured, Mr. Davies. Your workers will be well taken care of,” she says. 

Davies takes in a stuttered breath. “M-my mill—” he rasps. 

“Your mill will continue running. The workers will earn a fair wage, and the business will prosper,” Evie promises. 

Davies trembles once, and his last breath leaves him. 

“Rest in peace,” Evie murmurs, gently pushing his eyelids down. She fishes out a white handkerchief and swipes it across Davies’s neck to collect some of his still-warm blood, then rises to her feet. 

Before she leaves, though, she still has one final task to complete. 

Davies’s desk is littered with a mess of documents—finances, worker information, schedules...but it doesn’t take long for Evie to find what she’s looking for. 

She folds her prize carefully before tucking it safely away in a hidden pocket and going back to the window she entered from to carry out her escape. 

The supervisors are still struggling to quell the fuss that Evie’s new accomplices have managed to kick up. During the time she spent completing her objective, the workers from the first and second floors seem to have joined in on the singing, their voices filling the mill and driving the supervisors into disarray. 

No doubt this is Jacob’s doing. He must have realised Evie was using the third floor workers as a distraction and taken the opportunity to encourage the rest of the workers to join in as well. 

It makes Evie’s escape effortless. Nobody is looking her way as she creeps across the gangway, scampers up a pile of logs, and hefts herself back up onto the roof through the open panel. She wastes no time making her way back down to the ground. The mission isn’t over until she and Jacob have put some distance between themselves and the site of the assassination. 

Her hands are shaking as she climbs down the wall, but her grip remains strong and sure. Adrenaline still courses through her veins. The gentle autumn breeze that washes over her, uncomfortably damp against her forehead and back, makes her realise that she is drenched in sweat. If her body is still sore like it was earlier on the climb up, she doesn’t feel it. 

Evie drops down the last three meters, landing squarely on her feet, and goes to retrieve Jacob. 

She whistles from beside the front entrance, softly enough that none of the busy supervisors will notice, but at just the right pitch that she knows Jacob’s sharp ears will pick it up. 

Surely enough, Jacob appears moments later and greets her with a triumphant grin, which she returns before beckoning at him to follow. They break into a sprint, letting their legs carry them as fast as they will, and don’t stop until they have the rendezvous point in their sights. 

Father is waiting for them outside the supply shed, expression unreadable as he notices them approaching, legs heavy but spirits high. 

Evie is exhausted. The aches have returned, stronger now than they were this morning, and her clothes cling to the sweat on her back, moist and cold. She takes in deep breaths as she straightens her back to stand at attention, but the gauntlet on her wrist is heavy with the weight of the life she has just taken. It is not guilt; it is responsibility, great and bright and heavier than anything she has ever carried.

Evie fishes out the document she stole and delivers it to Father’s waiting hand. 

“The deed to the mill. Davies is dead,” she reports, still breathing heavily, but before she can take another breath, Jacob tackles her into a hug so tight she feels her feet leave the ground. 

“You did it!” Laughing boisterously, Jacob spins her around until her eyes cross. “That was incredible, Evie!” 

The glee in Jacob’s voice is contagious. Head swimming, Evie allows herself a quiet, dizzy giggle before Jacob lets her back down onto the ground. 

“Father, you should have been there!” Jacob continues. “Not a single person knew we were there—well, the workers did, but see, we used them to help us distract the supervisors—” 

Father quiets Jacob down with a firm look before turning to Evie. 

Evie’s mouth starts moving automatically. “No one in the mill was harmed. I completed the objective all according to plan, and we both escaped the area undetected.” 

For a second, Father doesn’t seem to react. His gaze moves between them, from Evie to Jacob and then back again, before he places a large hand on Evie’s shoulder. “Excellent work, Evie. You are well on your way to becoming a full-fledged Assassin.” 

Pride swells in Evie’s chest, light and warm. “Thank you, Father.” 

“As for you, Jacob…” 

Jacob and Evie exchange nervous glances. Jacob’s lips are pursed into a thin line, and he casts his gaze downward. He’s gotten used to Father expressing his disappointment at him. 

“...You did well in assisting Evie. I’ve submitted a petition to the Council to have your first mission assigned within the month.” 

Jacob and Evie both gasp. 

“Really?” says Jacob, eyes shining. 

“You’re rough around the edges, obviously due to the training sessions you have been neglecting, but you are growing into a fine Assassin like your sister,” Father admits. 

“Jacob, that’s wonderful!” says Evie.

“Let’s go tell Grandmother.” 

“Hold on.” Father gestures at the gauntlet still clasped to Evie’s wrist. “One last thing.” 

“Oh—of course.” Evie removes the gauntlet and hands it back to Father, then unbuckles the knife belt from around her waist. “Jacob, your things…” 

Jacob follows suit, though the reluctance is obvious in the pout on his face when he turns his unused brass knuckles over to Father. 

“Tomorrow, the both of you will come with me to be fitted for your own hidden blade gauntlets. This is from the Council,” says Father, giving Evie a pouch of coins. “Your earnings for completing the mission. Spend it how you like.” 

Evie is amazed her eyes don’t pop right out of their sockets when she feels the weight of it. “There must be at least a hundred pounds in here!” 

“Mm...a rather meager sum for the difficulty level of this mission, but the Council felt that perhaps the typical payment would be a bit more than someone of your age would know what to do with,” says Father with a wry smile. “I couldn’t help but agree.”  

“No, I—thank you! This is exactly what I needed.” 

“Say, we’re splitting that, aren’t we?” says Jacob, leaning over with his hand poised as if to make a grab at the pouch. 

“You’ll get yours soon enough,” says Evie, sticking her tongue out at him and tucking the pouch away out of his reach. 

“Aw, come on! You wouldn’t have made it out of there without me!” 

“We’ll talk about it at home,” concedes Evie half-heartedly, waving him off. “You and Father should go first. I have something to take care of in town.” 

Jacob glares at her and mutters something about “stingy women,” but doesn’t try to argue as Father steers him towards the path home. 

“It won’t take me more than an hour. I’ll be back for lunch,” Evie promises before racing off towards the market area of town. 

She arrives at Mr. Griffiths’s shop just as he is about take lunch. 

“Mr. Griffiths! I have the money,” she announces. 

The watchmaker’s expression brightens when he sees her. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Frye! I was beginning to fear I would never see you again. So you’ve finally managed to scrounge up some change for that commission, have you?”

“Yes! Can you install the gold casing soon?” 

“I was about to have a bite of lunch, but I believe I can postpone that appointment. You’ve been waiting longer for yours than I have for mine, I imagine.” 

Evie hands him the bronze pocket watch and her gold chain, and he takes them with him to the back room. 

“If you’ll give me a moment…” Mr. Griffiths begins working right away, and Evie waits in the shop, too restless to sit. She rocks back and forth on her heels, examining the interior of the shop to occupy herself. 

An array of timepieces of every size and shape decorate the walls of the tiny shop; Evie sees looming grandfather clocks and miniature, open-faced pocket watches. The sound of ticking fills the room, dissonant and rather overwhelming when she finds herself getting absorbed in it, letting it surround and swallow her. She shakes herself out of it and wonders vaguely how Mr. Griffiths doesn’t go insane spending so much time in here. 

On the counter sits a display shelf of pocket watch casings. There is a variety of metals being advertised—silver, gold, bronze...Evie picks some of them up to examine them, hoping to find something interesting, and indeed she does. 

One of the casings, silver with swirling golden embellishments, is imprinted with a very familiar marking on the back. Evie recognises the symbol of the Assassin Order immediately, and can’t help but wonder if Mr. Griffiths knows anything about it. 

“Here you are, Miss Frye,” calls Mr. Griffiths, and Evie hears his footsteps approaching from the back room. 

Quickly but gently, Evie places the casing back onto the display shelf and folds her hands in front of her. 

Mr. Griffiths emerges, holding a newly encased and chained pocket watch. “All fixed up for you, my dear.” 

Evie takes the pocket watch and looks it over, turning it around and opening and closing the lid. The work is impeccable, as far as she can tell. The metal is clean and smooth, and the casing is a perfect fit. 

“This is wonderful...Jacob will absolutely love it. Thank you, Mr. Griffiths.” Having counted and separated the payment from her total on the way to town, Evie hands the sum over to Mr. Griffiths. “This is the price we agreed on, right?” 

Mr. Griffiths accepts the payment and, after a quick glance through it, nods. “Wonderful. I appreciate your patronage, Miss. Frye.” 

Evie smiles, but doesn’t leave. “I actually have one last question, if you would be so kind…” 

“Certainly.” 

“Those casings...do you make them yourself?” 

“Some of them, I do. Others I come across, usually from people who sell me their watches,” says Mr. Griffiths. “Did you have something in mind?” 

For a moment, Evie is tempted to ask him to change the casing. This was supposed to be a birthday present, but now Jacob will be going on his first mission in less than a month. After a silent deliberation, though, she decides that the gold casing alone will be suitable for his birthday, and Evie will figure out something else later. 

“Perhaps another time,” says Evie for the sake of politeness. “Thanks again, Mr. Griffiths.” 

“Any time, Miss Frye. Get home safe, now.” 

-:-

Evie keeps the pocket watch with her until later that night, while she and Jacob are going about their own business in the bedroom after supper. 

Jacob is fiddling with something at the desk, shoulders hunched over and brow furrowed with uncharacteristically deep concentration. Evie lounges on her bed, reading a history text on a well-known Italian Assassin from the 15th century. 

“You’re looking a little weighed down,” comments Jacob after a while to break the silence. He gets anxious when he goes too long without hearing his own voice, the poor thing. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second pudding, after all.” 

Evie shoots him a glare. “I feel fine, thanks. Besides, I earned that second pudding.” 

“Fair enough,” says Jacob. “I knew you could make twenty, but I didn’t expect you to pull the whole thing off in fifteen minutes.” 

Evie shrugs, holding back a smug smile. “I’m sure you’ll be able to do just as well on your mission. After you’ve started going to training sessions again, that is. It’s not as if you don’t have the time.”

“And you would know, would you?” replies Jacob, turning back around to continue his fiddling. 

“What have you been fussing around with over there, anyway?” Evie cranes her neck to get a look at it, but Jacob moves to block her view.

“You’ll know in a minute.”  

“What, it’s not a birthday present, is it?” teases Evie. 

“Why couldn’t it be?” Jacob snaps back, defensive. 

Evie puts a hand to her chest dramatically and climbs off her bed. “Oh, for me? How sweet! Let me see.” 

“No, bug off.” 

Evie grasps Jacob’s shoulders from behind to keep him still while she leans down to inspect his little project. 

“Evie—” Jacob squirms and snatches the items off the desk, but Evie has already spotted a thin golden chain and a green stone pendant.

“Is that really for me?” asks Evie. 

With a sigh, Jacob shrugs Evie off his shoulders and places the necklace in her hand. “If you want it.” 

The chain is simple in design, but elegant. The pendant is a teardrop-shaped stone of a deep, vivid green hue, yet despite the intensity of the color the material seems less dense than typical stone, like colored glass. She’s never seen anything like it. 

“Where did you get this?” asks Evie, holding the pendant up against the light of a lamp. The stone almost appears to glow. 

“It was Mother’s, apparently,” says Jacob, and Evie stiffens. 

“How did you—” 

“Grandmother found it while she was cleaning out some of Mother’s old things. I asked if it would be all right if we gave it to you, and she agreed. That’s all.” 

“It’s lovely, Jacob. Thank you,” says Evie, still admiring the strange stone. “But what exactly is this?” 

“Grandmother called it ‘jade.’ Said it was a stone they use in the East and that Father brought it home from India as a gift for Mother,” says Jacob. “I was just fixing the the clasp up a little and was going to give it to you before you nosed in.” 

Evie smiles at that last part. “Well, perhaps if you’d been a little more subtle about it I wouldn’t have gotten curious. After all, I managed to hide my gift to you for three years.” 

Jacob raises an eyebrow. “What on earth could have taken you three years to prepare?” 

Putting on a sweet smile, Evie pulls Jacob’s newly refurbished pocket watch out and dangles it by the chain in front of his face. 

“Wait, is that—?” Jacob snatches the watch out of her hands and opens the clasp. “My god, it is! This is the watch you took from me on our twelfth birthday!” 

“You mean the watch I  _ won _ from you fair and square,” corrects Evie. “I knew you’d never save up enough to get it fixed, so I thought I’d do you a favor.” 

“Evie…” Jacob turns the watch over in his hands, running his fingers over the casing. “This must have cost you an arm and a leg.” 

“Well, it wasn’t much with the help of those earnings I got from the mission this morning,” admits Evie. “You can have the rest of that, by the way, if you still want it. There’s plenty left.” 

“No...this is enough. This is  _ perfect _ . Thank you, Evie.” 

Jacob rises from his seat to give Evie a hug, which she returns with vigor, squeezing him tight. 

At that moment, the lamp goes out, plunging the room into darkness. 

They freeze for a second, both of them holding their breaths. They used to be afraid of the dark when they were little. It blocked out their sight and made them hear things that weren’t there. 

But then Evie relaxes in Jacob’s arms, and she feels Jacob drop his shoulders as well. That fear is an old one--the night is their home now. They pull away from each other and Evie feels the ghost of the hidden blade’s weight around her wrist. 

From here on out whatever might come for them, whether it be born from shadow or light, will be in for a hell of a fight. 

“Happy Birthday, Jacob” she says quietly into the darkness. 

“Happy Birthday, Evie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this part is over, but it's only the first of three stories in the series! i honestly don't know how quickly the second half will be coming out since this isn't really my main project, but i'll definitely be working on it often so keep an eye out! thanks for reading everyone o/


End file.
